Stadel and Alpacas! -- Bad Munster, Germany

Do exactly what you would do if you felt most secure. 

~Meister Eckhart 

I woke early Tuesday morning to bid farewell to Stefan before he biked to work.

Early... never before would I have considered 6:30 am "early". Mediterranean, what have you done to me? Where have you put the yoga teacher who woke up at 4:00 every morning to prepare for class?

"It was so good to be here."

"It was good having you."

"Maybe I'll see you again in Nepal."

"Maybe," the boundless energy of my host shone through his cheerful smile. "Enjoy za museum and have fun wis alpacas!"

As the front door shut, I stumbled into the kitchen to make myself a cup of coffee. Kettle humming away, I peered into the fridge and decided to eat the last two eggs and final sausage for breakfast, hoping that the protein would keep me going until dinner in Bad Munster that evening. I'd gone without breakfast on Monday and had felt dizzy and faint for the rest of the day (which made slacklining particularly tricky) and today I wanted all of my energy for the two daunting tasks that lay before me.

The Stadel Museum.

Finding my way to the alpacas in Bad Munster.

I drank my coffee, ate my protein, hopped in the shower and set off for the Stadel Museum (after drying off and dressing, presumably). The weather was brisk and the chilly air mixed with the caffeine and my time limit (I needed to be on the train by 14:25) really woke me up.

Street art on the walk

There are loads of parks in Frankfurt. This may very well be Germany's "business city", but people here still know how to relax and enjoy the outdoors.

View of Frankfurt from the Main. Notice the skyscrapers juxtaposed with the more old-fashioned type buildings. Out of all the cities I've visited (not too many thus far, but enough to make a decent comparison), Frankfurt combines modern and traditional, peaceful parks and bustling shopping streets better than any other place.

 I made it to the Stadel shortly after it opened at 10:00 and spent the next two hours in the various stages between being completely captivated and pretending to be completely captivated by one of Germany's most important collections of art.

Founded by Johann Friedrich Stadel in 1815, the museum now boasts 2700 paintings (although it stingily displays only 600), 100,000 drawings/prints (Rembrandt must have done half of them) and 600 sculptures. However, it did lose 700 prints in 1937 when the socialist party seized them as degenerative art and the entire collection had to be moved elsewhere during the bombings in WWII. The gallery was rebuilt in 1966 and seems to have been restored to its former glory, as its stately walls exhibit works from the 14th to the 20th century from masters such as van Eyck, van Gogh, Degas, Rembrandt and Monet.

I went to the Stadel to specifically search out works by Matthias Grunewald (for my visual arts challenge), but even though the museum's website states that they possess his art, I couldn't find a single piece.

They must be stored with the 2100 paintings not on display.

I really don't understand the foreshortening in this painting. What the hell happened to Goethe's foot?

Notice the top window. I really love street art in Frankfurt. It's super imaginative.

 I returned to Stefan's flat at 13:00, quickly checked all of my email, facebook, volunteer and couchsurfing accounts (so much of my life is online these days), scanned the rooms for miscellaneous articles generally left behind (pens, socks, notebooks, jewelry), tugged on my backpack and set off for the subway.

Sometimes I feel like such a child and sincerely start to question how I've managed to survive this long. I made it into the correct subway station (huzzah!), but I had absolutely no idea how to purchase a ticket from the machines. They only partially operated via touchscreen, and I had no idea when to punch buttons and when to touch the screen. So after standing in front of the ticket machine like a nincompoop for five minutes, I approached a young man who looked like he knew what he was doing, passed him my two euros sixty and asked him to do it for me.

Voila. In five seconds, I had a ticket to Frankfurt HBF.

"Danke."

"Have a nice day."

Argh. It's a good thing for you that people are so helpful, Bourget. One of these days you might not be so lucky. 

I didn't even try to print off my own ticket from Frankfurt HBF to Bad Munster a Stein. I marched straight to information and asked them how tickets were done. The woman printed off my ticket for me, accepted my fifteen euros and told me that my train left from gate 20 at 14:25.

Gate 20 at 14:25. That's so easy. And I still have over half an hour. Wow. I can just sit and relax and read my book and...

And after 20 minutes of sitting and relaxing and reading my book, I noticed something odd. The sign at gate 20 didn't seem to be listing my train. It was 14:15 and the next train should have been mine, but it appeared to have skipped my destination and was going to the airport instead.

That can't be right... 

I pounced on an elderly lady to my left, "Do you speak English?"

"Nein," and she proceeded to rattle off lengthy German sentences that were years beyond my comprehension. I decided to be a bi more primitive and chose the pointing technique. After I'd shrugged my shoulders to her German, I pointed to my ticket and then pointed to the sign above Gate 20.

"Keine ahnung," the woman replied.

I gave up and raced towards information. I nearly collided into a pretty young German with a red rolling bag on the way, and decided to ask her instead (since we'd already nearly collided and all).

"I have no idea," she replied.

"Could I show you -- " I started walking over to the big board with all the departure times.

"Let's go to information," and we ran off together in search of my correct gate.

"It's Gate 17," the disinterested lady at information responded to our query. I tried not to look exasperated as I glanced at the time on my phone.

Awesome. Five minutes before my train leaves. 

"Danke!"

And I charged to my train, boots clomping, bag bouncing, and heart thumping.

God, I really need to chill out. What's the worse that can happen if I miss my train? I'm going to give myself an ulcer if I continue to freak like this. 

I was tense for the entire journey. I kept feeling like I'd somehow hopped the wrong train in my haste and would end up in Hamburg or Berlin unless I glued my eyes to the signs rolling by.

But talkative, vivacious Julia was waiting for me at Bad Munster to drive me to the 400 year old farmhouse in the countryside which was to be my home for the next three weeks.

 Once at the house, she told me to relax, settle in, and that she would show me how everything operated in the morning. I was introduced to the other workawayer, the coffee machine, and the four adorable dogs.

I went out and met the alpacas with Joe. I didn't want to wait until the morning.

 So far I've learned that alpacas hum when they're discontent, scream (like a human in mortal pain) when they're angry, and spit when they're pissed. They hate the taste of their own spit so much that they stand with their mouths hanging open after expectorating the pungent green cud.

The expression on their faces reads, "Agh! Crap... why? Why did I do that? Agh! Never again... never again.."

 Preconceptions: German trains do operate on time, but they may or may not leave from the gate listed on your ticket.

Challenges: I was in a museum that claimed to have Grunewald, although I wasn't able to find it. Das ist schade.